Entropy
by Nova42
Summary: 3rd and final installment of the Providence Verse. With a minute left on the clock and the score woefully unbalanced, how do you decide when to take a knee, concede defeat and when to fight till the very last breath? (Spoilers through season 11, time travel). Story on Hiatus till Aug.
1. Until the End

**Disclaimer/Spoilers**: Everything up to and including season 11. Also don't own Supernatural. Just playing in a great little sandbox created by Kripke and company.

**A/N**: Entropy is the 3rd and final part of the Providence verse. This story may not make any sense at all, unless you read Providence and Causality first. So if you haven't already, go "MMMbop" your way over there. For those of you coming here from Causality, I hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to tip the lost souls on the way out.

Entropy – Lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder

* * *

**Until The End**

_Why give up, why give in?_

_It's not enough, it never is._

_So I will go on until the end._

_We've become desolate._

_It's not enough, it never is._

_But I will go on until the end._

* * *

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the world shifted from underneath him once more. His stomach churned but it wasn't due to the sudden angel teleportation. It was because of the scene they were leaving behind. It was because they were leaving _Dean_ behind.

They stood on that hillside for what felt like hours, helpless and awed as they watched the column of otherworldly light funnel up the night sky. Then Sam had broken from his stupor and surged toward the downhill slope, toward the convent, his heart pounding, his head swimming. Dean was still _in_ _there._ His older brother was in danger, again, and they were just _standing there_. But Cas had stepped into his path and placed a firm hand against Sam's chest, told him that the column of light, the high-pitched noise they'd heard – that was Lucifer breaking free from his cage.

They'd failed.

Well, Lucifer could be twice damned; Sam _was_ going after his brother. He wasn't about to allow Dean to be some sacrificial lamb left to slaughter. He got an arm up between them and tried to push past Cas, but the angel had simply lifted his fingers and touched Sam's forehead. Everything went swiftly black.

Sam wasn't sure how much timed passed before he came to, but they were still on the same damned hill. The only noticeable difference to the night was that the blinding column of light that had rent the sky was gone. With fury heating his chest, he pushed himself to his feet on trembling arms. "What the hell, Cas!" he demanded, taking a step toward the angel. He knew he was no physical threat to Cas, but that didn't quell his rising anger or keep his hands from forming tight fists at his sides.

When Castiel turned toward him, there was something floating just below the surface of his steady gaze, but Sam struggled to put a name to it. "Staying there any longer would have served no purpose but our deaths." The angel paused, then quietly added, "or worse."

"So, we just leave Dean there alone, _again_, to bite the bullet!" Sam dragged his hands roughly through his hair. What he was feeling about these recent events went beyond frustrated. They should have gone in for Dean when they had the chance. _Cas_ should have gone in for Dean.

They stood on the hill for another few quiet moments before Sam's anger deflated and his shoulders slumped, and he broke the silence. "We have to go back to . . . " He couldn't bring himself to finish, because it didn't matter. Because he knew Dean wouldn't be there. Either his brother was once more in demonic hands, or he was dead. He couldn't bear to say it out loud, but Sam couldn't imagine any scenario where Lucifer, the devil, let his brother walk free and unarmed out of that building. It was the _devil _they were talking about.

Cas nodded solemnly and gripped both Sam and Bobby's shoulders. The world shifted in an odd, weightless flash that Sam swore he would never grow used to, and then they were inside the broken hallways of the chilled, dim convent. Sam immediately took off down a hallway, even though he had no idea whether he was going in the right direction.

Rooms lined the hallway on either side. Heart pounding anxiously, Sam paused at each doorway only long enough to confirm they were empty.

"Sam." Bobby's quiet voice echoed through the hallway.

He stopped short, looked over his shoulder to see Bobby gestured toward a room. With somewhat wooden legs, Sam followed the older hunter inside. There was some sort of altar on the far side of the room, and . . .

And nothing. Sam rolled his bottom lip against his teeth, dragged a hand over his mouth. There was nothing here. No other sign that Dean or anyone else had been in the room. Even the thick dust that coated every surface looked as though it hadn't been disturbed in years. The only hint someone _had _been there was the altar and the shiny brass bowl sitting on top, looking out of place in the room.

"Now what?" Bobby asked.

Sam took a deep breath in an attempt to still his racing mind. _Now what? _Lucifer was free. Dean was . . . God only knew where, assuming even _he _did. They were looking at a full-blown apocalypse, right in the face. "Head back to the bunker," he finally said, hollowly. His words hung heavily in the air. There was nothing left for them here. "Regroup."

Footsteps crunched behind Sam, and then the world around him shifted for what he hoped was the final time that night. He blinked, momentarily blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

He took a few heavy steps into the bunker's library, only to stop short at the sight of someone waiting for them at the far end of the room. The man's head was down, his forehead resting on clenched fists, elbows propped on the table. Relief flooded through Sam, and he felt dizzy as he closed the space between he and his brother.

"Dean?" Sam nearly dropped to his knees at his brother's side, had to place a palm on the tabletop to remain standing. His head buzzed with adrenaline, and at the same time, an immeasurable weight was lifted from his shoulders. Lucifer breaking out of the cage was a serious blow to the game plan, but his brother was here, was _safe_, and that was all that mattered. Whatever problems lie ahead, they'd face them together.

It was a few moments before Dean straightened in the chair and dropped his hands to the table. When he lifted his eyes, his gaze held the tired look of a man who had fought the good fight, and found that he just wasn't good enough.

Sam was physically rocked a step back by the look, and his heart sank like a heavy rock into his stomach. Before he could question his brother, Bobby cut him off.

"How . . ." the older hunter asked, then flapped a hand uselessly.

The room was silent for a long, tense moment before Cas answered, "God."

"What?" Sam's neck nearly cracked from the force with which he turned to the angel. He'd felt for a while now that he was barely keeping up with the others, and the mention of _God _made all of this seem well above his pay grade, and beyond his puny human abilities. "God?"

Dean's throat worked around a rough swallow, and his chin dipped. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah," he said, voice choked and hoarse. "He's done it before."

"Done what?" Sam asked, finally falling into the chair next to his brother.

"Saved me. Us."

There were libraries of information he hadn't shared with Sam; that much was clear. He'd had a feeling, but he knew now for sure. Whatever they had been through, whatever he or Dean had done . . . he'd hardly scratched the surface of understanding. He was flirting with the frayed edges of his exhaustion, his anger, but Dean looked like he was hardly holding himself together, and now was not the time for an indignant explosion. Instead, he turned to Bobby and Castiel. "What the hell do we do now?"

Bobby pressed his lips into a tight line. "Now we figure out what to do next."

Dean shook his head. "Bobby, I don't think—" The words caught in his throat, voice thick, like a man who had reached the end of his rope and didn't know what was left to hold onto.

"I said, what do we do next, Dean?" Bobby's voice firm, but was also laced with more understanding, more empathy, than Sam had thought possible of the old hunter.

Dean pressed his fist against his mouth, taking a moment to collect himself before clearing his throat. "Right. Okay, right." He nodded letting his hand drop to the table with a heavy thud.

Bobby nodded once. "We have a full-blown apocalypse on our hands. We need to know what the devil's first move is gonna be and figure out how to stop it."

"The horsemen," Dean said. "He'll raise the four horsemen, starting with War."

Bobby nodded, gaze moving between Dean and Castiel. "You remember when and where?"


	2. One More Night

**AN: **Suuuup. So lots of stuff has happened since I last posted. Murder hornets, global pandemic, school, went to New Orleans to help with COVID, went back home, went be to NOLA, got my hair cut. changed my wardrobe, foud a new obession.

I think my hair is the same color.

So, you know, there's that?

I'm sure some of you gave up hope that this would be updated, some of you may have died ofold age waiting for the next chapter. For shame. I told you I wouldn't abandon it. It's just taking me a bit, I realized I had almost no plan for Entropy. Just that I wanted to get here.

If anyone needs a summary of what has happened over the course of the last three stories . . . can I get in on that, because I have like no clue. I guess I'm going to have to go back and read my own stuff. Anywho, read, enjoy, review, see you all in six months.

I'm kidding.

I hope.

* * *

_**One More Night**_

_Another night in the darkness__  
__Another day in the silence__  
__It's like a bad dream__  
__That you can't wake up from__  
__And all these dreams are like nightmares__  
__They bring the day that you can't keep facing__  
__'Cause you can't face another day_

* * *

Bobby nodded, his squinted gaze moving between Dean and Castiel. "You remember when and where?"

Dean took a deep breath, using the pause to shove the overwhelming sense of failure he was feeling as far to the side as he could. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand, not that it was going to make a difference. So far, no matter what he did, no matter he changed, none of it had made a difference. It seemed that the angels and demons – hell, that Fate herself – were all determined to keep this train on its disastrous track.

He dragged a hand down his face, badly needing a stiff drink. "A few days from now?" he offered, pushing up from his seat. He crossed to where the bottle of whiskey was sitting and poured himself a generous amount, taking a long drink before he turned to face the others. "Maybe?"

"And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood," Cas recited. "And many men died."

Sam shifted in his chair, rotating his body so that he could see the angel. "So, we're looking for a shooting star?"

Dean frowned. He rolled the glass in his hand and tried to recall the incident from . . . well, too many years ago. After a moment, he nodded. "And a river suddenly running polluted. That's were War will be."

Bobby pulled out a chair for himself and sat heavily. "So, how do we stop him? War?"

"Each of the horsemen have a ring that is the tied to their power," Castiel answered. "If we remove the rings from them, they will lose their power." The angel walked further into the room, taking a seat next to Sam.

"I imagine that sounds a lot easier than it actually is," Bobby said, in a tone that suggested it didn't sound easy at all.

Dean couldn't blame him, or any of them, for the palpable dread and fear that had fallen over the room. They were talking about the end of the world, after all.

"Actually," he said, moving back to the table, "once we figured out what was going on, War was pretty easy to deal with." He took a long drink from his glass as unsavory memories bobbed to the surface of his mind. "Pestilence and Famine, well, that's a different story."

"And Death?" Sam asked. His expression had been growing more drawn, his complexion blanching further as the conversation went on, looking much older than his twenty-six years.

Dean stared down into the contents of his glass, taking a moment before answering. "Death gave me his ring."

"He gave it to you?" Sam's eyebrows jumped toward his hairline. "Why?"

"Raising the four horsemen binds them to Lucifer's will," he said, sitting back down at the table. "I'm not sure about the other three, but Death saw Lucifer as a petulant child and wanted to be free of him. He wanted Lucifer back in the cage just as much as we did."

Sam's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. It was obvious he was having a hard time accepting everything he was hearing, but in the end, he nodded slowly, accepting the answer.

"All right." Bobby leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the tabletops. "We'll figure out how to deal with the horsemen, but what about their boss? How the hell do we stop Lucifer?" His gazed shifted to Dean. "How did you stop him last time?"

Dean finished off the whiskey in his glass, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat and warmed his belly. They weren't going to hear what he did to stop Lucifer last time, because he knew there was no way they would be doing the same thing this time. Under no circumstances was he going to let his little brother jump into the devil's cage. Not again. But up to this point, every single damn thing he'd tried to do differently hasn't mattered; everything has so far led them right back to the same damn place they were in last time.

His gut tightened. There _had_ to be something. The largest collection of occult knowledge was sitting right here, in this bunker. There had to be a spell, a book, an artifact of some kind that would allow him to protect his brother from becoming Lucifer's meat puppet, that would keep Sammy out of Hell.

"Dean."

He raised his head and found the others all staring at him, waiting. He'd been quiet too long, and too obviously. Sam was leaning forward, his brows drawn together. Cas, for whatever it was worth, had his head cocked sympathetically.

Dean shook his head. "It won't work."

"What won't work?" Bobby asked, a frown pulling at his weathered face.

"What we did last time." He glanced sideways at Cas, unsure whether the angel would spill the beans or bail him out here.

Castiel looked at him for a long time before turning back to the others. "Dean's right," he finally said. "Too much has been altered already. We'll need a new plan."

Bobby nodded, his gaze roaming the many bookshelves of the bunker's library. "Well, then I guess we better get lookin' for a new plan."

Dean could feel his brother's gaze on him, and he knew Sam was trying to figure out what he wasn't telling him, what secret he was hiding. He ignored the look, the silent questions in those eyes, and focused instead on the matter at hand. How to stop Lucifer. The last time they had played this game, they spent months searching through every piece of lore and spell they could get their hands on, only to come up empty. It had taken Death to give them a way to stop Lucifer. But last time, they didn't have access to the bunker, and the world's largest supernatural library. Dean had to believe that there was an answer to this problem here somewhere, because he couldn't let his brother pay the price for his failure. Not a second time.

* * *

They didn't have to wait long for War to rear his ugly little head.

Dealing with the horseman this time went a lot more smoothly, since they already knew the game going in. Sam, Dean, and Cas went to River Pass handle War, and Bobby stayed behind to start going through the lore, looking for anything that could tell them how to stop Lucifer, how to kill the devil. The three of them went in, found and cornered War, removed his ring, and got out. For the first time in Dean's life that he could remember, the plan went off without a hitch. He allowed himself about five minutes to feel some brief satisfaction in that fact, before the worry set it, about the other shoe and when it would drop. Dean felt unsettled, like he was missing something, but when they returned to the bunker with no incidents, he gave in to the thought that maybe, just this one time, they were in the clear. Just this once.

Pestilence and Famine would be far more difficult to deal with, as even Cas had been affected by their influence last time. Luckily for them, the end of the world as they knew it was set to be a slow burn, and they would have at least a little bit of time to plan their next moves.

The unsettled feeling clung to Dean for days. Finally, standing at the kitchen counter assembling a sandwich, he figured out what was missing, what had been different from the trip to River Pass for War's ring. Jo. She was there last time; she and Ellen had both been there. The way things had played out this time, Ellen had died in the roadhouse alongside Ash, but Jo . . . Dean realized he hadn't heard from her since he returned to this time. He debated checking in with her, but ultimately decided it was best not to drag her into his mess and risk having her blood on his hands all over again, a casualty of this pointless war between Heaven and Hell.

When Lucifer broke out of the cage last time, Zachariah had been on Dean's ass within moments of the event. This time, there was nothing. No angels had come knocking at his door, with threats of pain if he didn't let Michael wear him to the prom. The lack of noise from Heaven was somehow even more disconcerting than the dirt they had kicked up last time.

Appetite suddenly gone, Dean abandoned his sandwich on the counter and ventured out into the library in search of Cas, the one person with an inside track as to what might be going on in Heaven. He found the angel sitting at one of the tables with a large leather-bound tome open in front of him. Bobby sat at the other end of the table, in a similar fashion.

"Zachariah is dead," the angel said, without even looking up, and not giving Dean a chance to speak.

"Oh." He pulled up short. The information wasn't something he had expected to hear, but he couldn't say that he was disappointed. "Was it demons?"

"Petulance."

Knowing that feathery bastard, yeah, that sounded about right. "Michael?" Dean asked.

"I believe so."

That explained why the angel hadn't come barreling after Dean the moment he was plucked from the monastery. He vaguely wondered what had changed this time around for Michael, why the archangel would off one of his own angels. Zachariah hadn't seemed any more of an asshole this time around.

Dean had to wonder what would happen now. Last time Zachariah had died, no angel stepped in to take his place. But they had changed the game up, and now even more was up in the air.

The sound of a book slamming shut drew Dean's attention to the other end of the table, where Bobby sat.

"Bobby?" Dean asked, taking note of the older man's frustrated expression.

The man sighed, lifting his hat long enough to rub at the top of his head. "There's a lot of lore here, tons of shit I never even considered. But nothing so far that will help us with the devil."

Cas slowly closed his own book and looked up at Dean. "Perhaps we should consider the angel tablet."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Dean said quickly.

"Angel tablet?" Bobby asked.

"It's a stone tablet containing information regarding the nature of angels," Castiel explained. "It may be able provide us with information on Lucifer."

Bobby raised his eyebrows toward Dean. "And that's not a good idea why?"

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. "Because only a prophet can read the tablet. And right now, that prophet is, what?" He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at Cas. "A thirteen-year-old kid?" He shook his head firmly. "There is no way we are dragging him into this mess."

"It is possible that because of his age," Cas said, "another prophet will be activated."

"They're connected to the Archangels," Dean countered. "Won't they know what's going on the moment we do it?"

"Perhaps." Castiel tilted his head, like he was listening to something only he could hear. "However, I don't believe they would interfere. Not unless the prophet is in danger."

Dean rolled his head on his shoulders. They had not been able to translate all of the tablet last time; it was entirely possible that the answer they wanted would be there. And even if it wasn't, there was still likely information on the tablet that would be useful to them. He would prefer not to drag anyone into this, but it was better than the world ending in some battle royal between angels and demons. "All right," he said with a sigh. "Who's the next prophet in the line?"

"Donatello Redfield," Cas answered. "A chemistry professor. And Atheist"

"Atheist?" Bobby snorted. "Well, this'll be fun."


End file.
